Title: Of Bars and Brothers
Author: Fandrea (aka Cinca)
Fandom : Supernatural
Words: 3417
Ratings: Gen PG 13 or T
Warnings: Violence and Limp!Sam. Also some bad words.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Neighter the show nor it's characters.
Beta: Faye Dartmouth , who rocks!
A/N: This is for 2010. Summer of Sam Love. Thanks for the crew to organizing this again! And sorry I messed up when updating another fic. This should be readded now. Sorry for confusion. This should be the final ironed version if not, by all means let me know. :-)
Sam watched the scenery pass by the Impala's window with a dizzying speed. No matter how he tried, he just couldn't seem to go to sleep. They left Red Lodge and Gordon behind hours ago but he was still restless. His arm stung and he had a mother of a headache and he was tired and exhausted. Yet his brain just wouldn't shut off. Dean would probably tease him over it, if he wasn't so lost in thought himself.
Sam looked over at his brother, who kept his eyes focused on the road and didn't even have music tension was rolling off of him in waves. This really had been one of the weirdest hunts in their life and that was saying something. The Winchesters protecting Vampires. Who would have thought, when a few months ago they didn't even know they existed until until Dad told them…
Dad-that was another touchy subject. Especially with Dean. His death was hard on both of them, but Sam was too worried about Dean to think about how he felt.
He wanted to help his brother, talk to him, let him know he was there, but how could he do that if Dean was shut off? His brother was hell bent on not talking about anything, especially about John's death. And Sam knew Dean well enough to not to force his brother to talk. But it was becoming more and more necessary and honestly, he wouldn't mind a few more bruises or a broken nose if it made Dean feel better.
Suddenly the car stopped moving. Sam looked up to see a motel. Huh? When did they enter a town? Dean looked at him expentantly, so Sam opened his door and climbed out, albeit a bit clumsily. He heard Dean getting out then going in the general direction of the motel, probably to check them in. Sam leaned on the car for support and slowly made his way over to the trunk. For once he was glad his brother was inside the motel. He just took out his duffel bag when Dean showed up, room key in hand.
"Room 122," he said, jiggling the keys. Then he grabbed his own bag and shut the trunk. The brothers headed inside.
Inside, the motel room looked nice and clean, which was a pleasant surprise. They tossed their bags on by their beds and Sam laid down hoping to get some sleep… Only to have Dean tap his boots. He opened an eye.
"Aren't you going to find us a new case?" Dean asked.
"Look, maybe we should hole up for a day or two…" Sam started, but Dean interrupted.
"Nah, I want to keep going tomorrow." He stood up and went over to his own bed, plopping down.
"But Dean don't you think we should.." Sam started again and something inside Dean snapped.
"Did I say it's up for discussion?" he retorted.
Sam shut his mouth and turned away. He really didn't want to argue with Dean right now.
But Dean apparently wasn't finished. "I have enough on my plate without your whining." Dean went to get his coat.
Sam stood up from his bed as well.
"Where are you going?" Sam asked.
"Out." Dean said and before Sam could say a word he continued. "And I intend to go alone." He grabbed his phone and keys and went out the door, slamming it shut behind him. Sam sighed as he heard the Impala roar to life; he knew this was going to be a long night.
Dean was fuming. His brother was getting on his last nerves. He appreciated the effort, but he didn't want to talk. Period. Why couldn't Sam get that in his head? And there was another reason. John left him with something before he died. And Dean couldn't tell Sam that. He just couldn't. Sam was better off as far away from him as possible.
As he entered the bar, he noticed the pool table instantly. Nice, we need to hustle some cash anyway, he thought as he ordered his beer. He eyed the four players by the table; they all seemed easy to distract and they were obviously drunk. Finishing his beer, Dean went over to the table and introduced himself.
Sam looked at the page he was reading again, even though the letters were already starting to blur in front of him. Sam spent the past hours in front of his laptop, but he didn't find anything supernatural in the area. And he looked in every possible place online. Great, he thought, sighing. Dean is not going to be happy. He looked at the clock. Already two hours? He was worried. It wasn't unlike Dean to stay in a bar that long, but Sam couldn't help himself. His brother was tense and on egde ever since their dad died. He was closed off and any attempt at getting him to open up was met with brick walls. And that coupled with Dean being ticked off certainly didn't help.
He looked at his arm that should have been taken care of, and the headache that wasn't going away on its own also didn't help. But the first aid kit was in the Impala, which was taken by Dean. He bit his lip nervously. He just had the sense that Dean was going to get in trouble tonight and he couldn't let that go. Hoping the bar wasn't too far away, he grabbed his coat and key and left.
Turned out, Dean was right. Two hours later Dean already won 200 dollars from them. He didn't want to piss them off, so he decided to finish the game. "Hey, it was good to play but I gotta go. Got a hot date and all," he said jokingly. But one of the burly men wearing a bandana, most likely bikers if the motorcycles in front of the bar were any indication, stopped him.
"Hey we didn't finish the game. I want to win my money back."
"Well sorry, fella, but you had your chance and I don't have all night." Dean said turning to leave. But the other three gathered around him as well. This wasn't going to end well.
"At least give the money back," one of the others said. He looked pissed.
"Sorry, no can do," Dean said, attempting to push him out of the way. But the guy had other plans. He shoved Dean back against the table and picked up one of the cues.
"How about we teach him a lesson not to mess with us?" he said. That was when they heard another voice, one that Dean recognized all too easily. "What the hell are you doing?"
Sam found the bar pretty easily. It was only a 20 minute walk away and the Impala in front of it was a dead giveaway. When he entered, he froze. Dean was at the pool table with four large men surrounding him.
His blood ran cold and all he could see was his brother and those four men and Dean being threatened by them. All Sam could see in his mind was his brother in that hospital bed and flatlining. He was not going to let that happen. Not ever! He went over and growled showing one of the guys closest to Dean. "What the hell are you doing?"
Instantly, all pairs of eyes were on him. Dean's wide with shock and possibly anger? The others glared at him. "Is this your hot date?" one of the guys said.
Dean rolled his eyes. "No, just my idiot of a brother," he said, the last words directed, with a death glare, at Sam.
"Well, then we might have both of you to teach that lesson," the bandana wearing guy said and roughly shoved Sam next to Dean.
„Can't we just forget this? Sucks that you lost, but it's not our fault that you are sore losers," Dean tried again. But one of the guys already threw a punch at Dean and then all hell broke loose. Two of them teamed up on Dean but he managed to dodge most of their punches. Him being smaller then them had its perks after all. He drove his elbow in one of the guys stomach then knocked the other one out with a right hook.
Sam wasn't faring so well. He knocked one of his attackers out, but just as he managed to get the pool cue from the other one, he was kicked in the leg and he fell on his back. He rolled over to his back and tried stand up only to have a violent kick in his stomack driving him straight back down. Still gasping for air, he grabbed the pool table for support and tried to get up. But he was tossed roughly in the direction of the table, which crashed under his weight. He couldn't fight the darkness that claimed him.
Dean knew he was in trouble when the other two guys came over to him carrying the pool cube. But the bartenders voice stopped them. "If you all don't get outta here in five minutes, I am calling the police! I mean it," he said glaring at them all. "I don't need this kind of trouble in my bar. Either you leave now or I toss you out myself."
Sam groaned as he woke up. His head felt like it wanted to blow up and his chest felt like it was on fire. He tried to move his head, but his body wouldn't cooperate. He could hear yelling. Someone was talking about calling the police and throwing them out. The mention of cops had him opening his eyes and trying to get up. The bartender-or at least Sam assumed he was-looked pissed and Sam knew he meant his threat. They stayed as far away from the police as possible ever since they met that shapeshifter in St. Louis last year. They sure didn't need to get back onto their radar, alerting them that Dean wasn't dead now.
The bikers got up and left, grumbling under their breath. Dean went over to the table and offered his arm to help Sam up. Sam took it and stood up. He winced when he looked around the bar, which was a mess. He left a fifty bill for the damage, pretty much all his money in his wallet, and the brothers left.
"Dean, are you ok?" Sam asked as they walked over to the Impala. Then he frowned as Dean went to the driver side. "Did you drink? I can drive," he said hesitantly.
"Right and crash it again?" Dean snapped back, regretting the comment instantly. He missed the hurt expression on Sam's face as he turned away. Then he turned back.
"Why did you come here anyway?" he asked.
"I was worried. About you," Sam confessed.
"Well you can relax. I'm fine."
"No you're not. Dean, if I wouldn't have been there, those guys would have killed you!" Sam all but yelled. Sometimes he really didn't understand his brother.
"Oh yeah? Well it wasn't me who was tossed into a table. If anything, I really could have done without your help. Next time you want to help, just keep it to yourself. I sure don't need that kind of help. Hell, how can I trust you to watch my back on a hunt?" Dean snapped. Sam looked down.
"That's what I thought," Dean said as he got into the car. Then he started it up.
He couldn't face with Sam and his concern anymore, he felt he was going to suffocate. Or tell Sam his secret. Neither of those was an option. Decision made, he shifted the Impala into drive to head back into the motel. He knew it was cruel to leave his brother on the sidewalk like that but they both needed to cool off and they couldn't do that with them both in the same room. He just hoped Sam will understand it later.
Sam couldn't believe what happened. His brother left him. He knew he was being a pain in the ass, but it looked like he didn't know how much. Had he really been that bad of a brother? That he was hurting Dean more than doing good and didn't even realize it? And the crash, he had always blamed himself for the crash, for his father's demise and for their messed up life. But he had hoped Dean didn't.
He started to walk back, but the first few steps were enough to leave him breathless and in agony. His ribs were protesting even against breathing much less walking. His head throbbed in time with his heartbeat and he was dizzy. The cut on his arm was bleeding again but all the pain was nothing compared to the aching in his heart.
Sam walked in small baby steps, sometimes stopping by the streetlights for support. He was sore, dizzy and nauseaus even though he was sure there was nothing left in his stomach after throwing up twice. He looked like a drunk heading home. But there was no one on the street at this time of the night to help him. He wasn't even sure if he was heading in the right direction to the motel anymore. He had tears leaking from his eyes, but he wiped them away angrily. The last thing he needed was for Dean to see him crying.
It felt like forever, but he finally he saw the lights of their motel from across the road. But his fuzzy vision wasn't helping reading the numbers on the doors. The thin white salt line in front of one of the doors gave it away. Sam fumbled for his key to unlock it and went in. The sudden brightness had him squinting and his headache pounding. His chest ached and his vision was even more blurry than before.
"Where the hell have you been?"
Sam could see Dean a little blurrily. He sounded pissed. "w…s tr…ng to get b…ck," he managed to get out before his eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed in a heap on the floor.
Dean stood there, shocked for a second, but a slightly wheezing sound had him moving to Sam's side, rolling him over and checking him for injuries. And why the hell hadn't he done this before? He had a lot to choose from. Sam had bruises on his face, a cut on his arm-Dean guessed that was still from Gordon-and when he unbuttoned Sam's shirt, he saw spectacular bruises on his chest.
This was definitely a trip to the ER. Guilt was starting to sink in. He shouldn't have let Sam walkback. Hell, he shouldn't have left at all. He really looked at hisbrother for the first time in weeks and he didn't like what he saw.
Sam had dark circles under his eyes that looked like bruises and he looked too thin. But Dean needed to pull himself together; Sam needed medical attention and soon. Dean looked at his brother; he couldn't take him in fireman carry, he could hurt him even more. Decision made, he put one arm under Sam's back and one under his knees and stood up. He staggered out to the car and laid Sam on the backseat. Seconds later, the driver's door slammed shut and the Impala rumbled to life and sped off into the night towards the ER.
Dean hated hospitals. Hospitals were never good. Hospitals meant serious injuries or illness, awkward questions, and the insurance forms he was handed by the pretty nurse at the front desk. Most of all, it meant that he might lose his only family left. Too bad he didn't realize it sooner.
He had been in the waiting room for at least an hour, ever since he showed up with an uncounscious Sam in his arms, yelling for help. He had a lot of time to think, even with filling out the forms. He knew he wasn't handling John's death well, but he shouldn't have forgotten what was integrated in him: Taking care of Sammy. It was what defined him. Family defined him. It was ironic how he forgot that in the past few weeks. But that was going to change. Starting now. They would hole up for a few days. Settle down in a nice motel room and take a much needed vacation.
Two cups of coffee and tons of pacing later, he heard his name called. „Dean Bomer?" a kind looking middle aged doctor asked.
"That's me, how is my brother?" Dean asked cutting straight to the point.
"I am Doctor Freeman, I have been treating your brother. He is stable now. He has a concussion, broken ribs and we cleaned and stiched up his arm. I want to keep him here overnight just in case, but he should be good to go home tomorrow."
Dean breathed a sigh of relief. His brother was ok, well as ok as could be under the circumstances, but Dean needed to see him. "Can I see him?"
"Sure, I will show you to his room. If you have any questions or need me, you can page me," he said while leading Dean to Sam's room.
The doctor left once they reached the room and Sam's bed, leaving the brothers to themselves. Sam seemed to be sleeping, looking more peaceful and young than Dean had seen him in weeks without the worry lines on his face. He looked small and vulnerable, stirring every protective instinct in Dean. He snagged a hospital chair and sat down in it, settling in for a long night. Then, chick flick moments be damned, he took Sam's hand in his. He wanted to make sure Sam knew he was not alone if he woke up. Not that Dean would openly admit that, he would just tell Sam it was his imagination.
The first thing he felt was his head pounding. Then something irritating under his nose and the smell of antiseptic. This could only mean one place: hospital. But why did he need a hospital? He let out a small groan and tried to open his eyes, which was taking great effort.
"Sam, you awake?" He could hear Dean's voice from somewhere next to him. He he pried his eyes open and he could see the white walls and Dean next to him in a chair that didn't look very comfortable. He didn't look mad, but relieved, which suprised Sam.
"How are you feeling?" Dean asked with concern.
"Tired. My head hurts. What happened?" Sam asked. He had no recollection of getting back into the motel, much less into the hospital. But it must have been bad if Dean brought him in.
"Well you showed in the motel room and passed out. Apparently you walked back on your own. I am sorry, Sam," Dean said, his voice full of regret.
"For what?" Sam asked puzzled.
"For making you walk last night. I should have seen you were hurt. And for the way I have been acting…" Dean said.
"Dean, it's ok we needed to cool off and you were having a hard enough time with Dad's death," Sam said. He didn't want to add to Dean's guilt.
"But I am still your big brother and I know I have been slacking in my duties lately," Dean said. "But that's going to change. I can't promise I will talk about my feelings or Dad right away, you gotta give me time, but eventually I will. And you are still my brother and remember when you said you wanted to make sure I was ok? Well that goes both ways. Understood?" Dean said looking Sam in the eye to show he meant every word.
Sam swallowed. This was not something he imagined happening. Dean Winchester initiating a chick flick moment.
"Yes," he said finally, then continued. "You know I have your back too right? Whenever you want to talk, I'm here."
"I know, Sammy, wouldn't have it any other way. Me and my pain in the ass little brother against the world." Dean smiled. A true smile, the first time in weeks. Sam smiled back. For the first time, things didn't seem as bad as they have been. Together they could face anything.
END
Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed the fic. Feel free to let me know if you like it, reviews make my day. Cheers!